Cloudy with a chance of Sunshine
by Severus' Malfoy Maiden
Summary: Severus' evolution


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Severus sat at the small table outside watching the passersby in Diagon Alley. The cobblestone street was busy with happy shoppers chattering about their days. Owls flew overhead carrying parcels and parchment and hooting loudly. The skies were clear blue with big fluffy clouds and the sun shined down on his face as he looked up.

He was still not a handsome man. He hadn't transformed into one of those pin up wizards in Playwitch Magazine, but after years in the dark, there were times when the sunshine and some of Padma Patils Indian tea called to him. Witches didn't flock to him and he hadn't suddenly become someone others sought out for conversation, meaningless or otherwise.

He was snarky, sullen, and scowled almost all the time.

Padma brought his usual without a smile or a verbal greeting. Too many times having him give her a biting remark after she'd offered a 'hello and how are you, today?'.

The war ended with an Order of Merlin, first class to those who had sacrificed – most were awarded posthumously. Severus Snape, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and, of course Harry Potter were celebrated with honors during a very public press docket, much to the chagrin of Severus, Harry and Hermione. Ron seemed to glow with pride at the attention.

Severus was still fuzzy on the exact details of his harrowed rescue by the illustrious Gryffindor Princess as she was now titled in the papers. What he remembered was being attacked Nagini and shortly thereafter, while he lay bleeding, feeling the life drain from his body; he saw fire, and then nothing.

Hermione had emerged from a corner the moment Voldemort exited the shack and cast Fiend Fyre over the living Horcrux encased in a bubble. Nagini burned to ash and was left on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. Once the snake had stopped moving, she'd cast a Stasis over his body, poured Blood Replenishing Potion down Severus' throat and levitated him to a cove near Black Lake, where he would be safe until her return.

He'd woken up to the smell of antiseptic potions and blinding white walls: the infirmary at St. Mungo's.

He'd stayed a fortnight and his student, who he'd never offered any type of praise or courtesy, visited him; always with some sort of 'gift': a book to pass his time, the Daily Prophet to keep him abreast of current events, a cup of Padma Patil's tea, chocolate biscuits in case he had a sweet tooth. His favorite, though, at the time, he refused to acknowledge, was her conversation.

He rarely spoke back, but he'd listened. The first night she came, she sat after handing him a book and asked how he was feeling. He hadn't responded, but that didn't deter her. She'd gone on to talk about the beginnings of rebuilding the sites of the battles, starting with Hogwarts.

It took her an hour of chatting before she petered out and bid her goodbyes.

The next night, she was back with biscuits and tea. He had scowled at her as being a proper wizard, six in the evening was much too late for tea, but he drank anyway and discovered pure heaven in a cup. He'd murmured a thank you and so she took it to mean that he'd wanted her to come back every night until he'd been released.

On the night he had been released, she was nowhere to be found. It was with irritation and a healthy scowl at her absence that he'd left the hospital and moved back into his childhood home.

A few days after that, he realized he missed her.

They ran into each other in a small bookstore. She had smiled at him in greeting and he hadn't scowled. She had responded with a slight blush in embarrassment and said good bye. He wasn't sure if she had sensed that he wanted to spend some time with her or if she took his inaction as a rejection of some sort, but he meant to rectify his lack of action.

Being an awkward teen and then immediately becoming a Death Eater made him an even more awkward adult, at least where the softer gender were concerned. So he did the only thing he knew how to do: he stalked her.

He found that she was studying to take her N.E.W.T.s at the library every night after working all day at where ever she was needed. He didn't like that she walked home by herself in the dark. Knowing that she could handle herself better than most, he'd just followed at a distance until she was safely indoors. She rented a small flat on Lyon Lane – fitting, he'd thought.

She didn't go out normally with the exception of Thursday nights. Thursdays, she didn't study or go straight home; she went to an exercise class; some type of dance aerobics that had just opened. Many witches attended, walking into the place of business wearing exercise attire, ranging from sweatpants and shirt to very small, tight fitting shorts and top.

Severus didn't pay attention to any other witches while he sat, sipping his tea directly across from the exercise class entrance.

He paid attention to only one witch and she was walking up now. He was Glamoured, so she wouldn't recognize him, but there was a moment of tension when she turned and looked right at him.

She didn't move or blink or breathe in the short time that their eyes met, but all too soon she was turning and entering the building.

He closed his eyes and sighed. She wore a purple tank top, one that outline her breasts and pushed them up slightly. It hugged the curve of her waist and emphasized the flare of her hips. She wore a skirt with shorts under of the same color and material. Her legs were divine, he thought.

It had been exactly eight weeks since he'd run into her at the book store. He scoffed at his delusion of her wanting to spend time with him when she didn't have to. He was certain she only visited because he was her short term pet project.

He opened the book he had just purchased and began reading: A New Ladies Man: A Complete Guide to Getting, Pleasing and Keeping the Girl.

He spent the entire night and much of the next morning finishing the book cover to cover. He jotted down notes and summarized the high points of which he was reading right now.

Number One: Act. Don't reject yourself and not try. Do something.

Number Two: Be Genuine.

Severus pulled a parchment and quill and started writing. He went through five crumpled sheets before he set them aflame and scribbled frustratedly and sent it to her via owl.

He wanted to say so many things to her, but he couldn't articulate it. He wanted to tell her that he always regarded her as one of the bright spots during her school years. She was brilliant and her genuine enthusiasm for Potions and all things academic made him proud to be a Professor.

He wanted to tell her that he appreciated her visiting him in the hospital. He wanted to say so many things, but nothing sounded right. He wanted to tell her about the life debt he owed her and what it meant to him, but it wouldn't come out.

In the end, he sent the parchment with his message and hoped that she would respond in some way.

He needn't wait long, ten minutes later he heard a pop of Apparition followed by a knock on the door. He swallowed and opened it slowly; there, standing in pajamas, hair damp and eyes wet with tears was Hermione Granger.

She was holding the parchment in her hand. "Professor," she whispered.

He couldn't smile or frown, he could only remain stoic, gazing at her pre-bed state. "Will you have some wine with me?" he blurted. He was certain his voice was near cracking, but thankfully it didn't.

She half sobbed half laughed and nodded.

Stepping aside, he let her in. She followed him to the kitchen and fought the urge to make a face at its dilapidated state.

"Won't you sit?" he asked. It came out more of an order and she promptly plopped right down. He frowned and mentally reminded himself to change his tone. Then, he got upset at himself for her not accepting him and then remembering that he was still an authority figure to her; had been for years, he relented again, it wasn't her fault.

This was wrong, he thought sullenly. It was another delusion on his part; another obsession; another disappointment.

He had turned away from her while these thoughts raced through his mind and she sat quietly, her thumb playing with the corner of the parchment with the words that sent her Apparating to his home immediately after reading the words.

She looked down and read it again: _Thank you_.

How could she not react? He'd owned her heart for the better part of two years. She couldn't tell him while she was still his student. She'd tried and tried, but it was never the right time and she feared rejection more than she cared to admit.

Now was the time; she had to tell him. "Professor?"

She was going to say more, but he whipped around and glared. "I haven't been your professor for some time, Miss Granger," he snapped.

He felt like sighing in despair. He'd done it again; proven his inability to not be his father, to not be a Death Eater, to not be the snarky potions professor.

Severus knew she couldn't love him or even like him. He had nothing to offer her and it seemed as if he couldn't even be kind to her. He wanted to, desperately, but he found himself wishing she would just tell him what she came here to tell him; essentially, he needed her to hurry up and reject him so he could move on with his life.

He slammed the cupboard door and mentally huffed; life. What kind of life would he move on to? Living in his childhood home, swamped with memories of abuse and anger.

He set the cups down on the table and pushed the sugar towards the small woman watching him. "Why are you here, Miss Granger?" His tone was impatient.

She swallowed and jutted her chin. "Hermione," she corrected. Her voice cracked a bit and she repeated. "Please, call me Hermione."

After a moment of silence and stillness, he nodded curtly and continued stirring his tea.

She almost jumped for glee at this small triumph, but kept her bearing as she focused her attentions on her tea. She'd read that wizards felt uncomfortable with direct eye contact when talking of perceived feminine topics, like feelings.

It was now or never, she thought and took a sip of tea to whet her throat. "I've … umm, well, I've had.." She was fumbling, she knew, but he had stopped stirring and was waiting for her to finish. She took it as a good sign that he hadn't yelled at her to spit it out.

"Prof – Mr. – Severus, do you think I'm pretty?"

That was the very last thing he was expecting her to say and so he regarded her with surprise and then consideration to answer her question honestly.

His eyes roamed, once again, over her small features; dark wavy hair no longer frizzy, pert nose, full lips, doe eyes and freckles. She was slender and a full foot shorter than he. "I think you are …lovely, Hermione."

She gifted him with the prettiest smile he'd seen in quite some time and it was all for him.

***!***

From there, they built a friendship that blossomed into something more and he was forever thankful for the book he'd read that prompted him to act.

He no longer lived in the rundown hovel his parents had called home. Hermione had urged, nay begged, him to sell it and find another spot. He had. It hadn't been difficult; the Order of Merlin came with a land title and some Galleons.

Together, they'd found a small cottage that needed some tender loving care. She'd fallen in love with it upon first glance and to please her, he'd purchased it on the spot. The woman selling it had nearly keeled over with surprise. Truth be told, he was pleased with the cottage as well, though it wouldn't do to share that with anyone, but Hermione.

That was two years ago.

He sipped his favorite tea and sat across from the exercise class. There she was. She smiled and made her way to his table. "Mr. Snape," she greeted.

He smirked at her and pulled her chair out for her to sit. "Mrs. Snape."

Bending at the waist, he kissed her softly and laid his hand flat on her rounded belly. "Feeling alright, then?" he asked.

Hermione covered his hand with hers just as their daughter kicked. "Yes."


End file.
